


Werewolves Run Hot

by LuneFaitLaFolie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, BAMF Stiles, Beta Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Dead Claudia Stilinski, Everyone Is Alive, Good Peter, Ice Powers, M/M, Made up creature, Magical Claudia Stilinski, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pack in College, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, poorly researched slavic mythology, poorly translated old norse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26158537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuneFaitLaFolie/pseuds/LuneFaitLaFolie
Summary: “They believe it’s two hunters and a witch, and that the witch is using magic to conceal what they’re doing to the packs.” Chris explained.“They kidnap the packmate most important to the alpha, lock them in a huge tank of water, and before they can drown, the witch flash freezes it, killing them instantly. The rest of the pack is then kidnapped and chained up. They melt the ice, so that the frozen corpse is just lying there, and then one by one they kill off the pack members until all that is left is the alpha. They leave the alpha tied up to die of starvation, dehydration and most likely insanity."orWhen two hunters and witch with serial killer tendencies find their way to Beacon Hills to kill off the Hale pack, who is the most important packmate to Derek? And when she was alive, why was Claudia Stilinski always going on about Stiles and ice?
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 16
Kudos: 534





	Werewolves Run Hot

**Author's Note:**

> not beta-d so sorry for my tendencies to switch tenses.

Derek was surprised when Chris called an emergency pack meeting, as he usually rang Derek first so Derek could organise it at the loft. As the pack slowly arrived, all equally as confused, Derek began to have a sinking feeling, something was wrong.

Chris and Allison were the last to arrive, and Allison looked just and confused, and smelt of annoyance, while Chris smelled worried, though he was clearly trying to mask it. It was obvious he wouldn’t tell Allison what was going on.

“ _Spill_.” Peter said from where he was leaning back against the loft windows.

“I got a call from an old friend, a hunter, whose family is also a part of a pack. He and his wife were out of town on a job, they came back and the whole pack had been murdered. He’s tried to track the people that doing it, and he thinks they're on their way here.” Chris explained.

“I’m pretty sure we can take on a few hunters.” Erica said, most of the pack nodding in agreeance, but something in Chris’ expression made Derek feel on edge.

“What pack?” Cora asked, and the sharp scent of sadness that rolled off Chris in waves made Derek scrunch his face up.

“The Richmond pack, in Texas.” Chris replied, and Derek began to panic.

“The Richmond pack has been around for longer than the Hales have even been in America. There’s over fifty of them, how the hell could hunters wipe them out so easily, without anyone hearing of it happening?” Peter asked, an upset tilt to his voice.

“They believe it’s two hunters and a witch, and that the witch is using some seriously dark magic to conceal what they’re doing to the packs.”

“Packs? _Plural_? They’ve killed more than one?” Stiles asked.

“More or less they’ve wiped a pack per state. The last one was a small pack in Arizona.”

“And what, the CIA, the FBI, the police, _hell_ , the military, none of them have noticed large groups of people getting murdered across the country?” The Sheriff asked.

“Witches using dark magic are capable of incredible feats Mr. Stilinski.” Deaton explained. 

“So how are they doing it?” Lydia asked.

“From what David and Mary were saying, they kidnap the packmate most important to the alpha, lock them in a huge tank of water, and before they can drown, the witch flash freezes it, killing them instantly. The rest of the pack is then kidnapped, chained up with wolfsbane and enchanted chains, so no one can get out of them. They pull apart the tank and melt the ice, so that the frozen corpse is just lying there, and then one by one they kill off the pack members until all that is left is the alpha. They leave the alpha tied up to die of starvation, dehydration and most likely insanity. Having pack bonds break like that, to an alpha, is the worst feeling in the world.” Chris explained, voice going quiet as he finished talking.

“ _Great_ , so we’re dealing with serial killer hunters then?” Allison asked rhetorically.

“And they leave no survivors?” Isaac asked.

“No, and the bodies seemingly disappear after a few days, I’m presuming the witch is using the corpses to essentially power herself.” Chris replied. 

“We need a plan.” Cora said rather nervously, and Derek could figure why, she would be the one they would take… _right_?

“Stiles, Danny and I will come up with a plan and we can all meet back here once we do, probably in a few days, I doubt they will strike before they have monitored us. Everyone stay in two’s or three’s, and remain hyper vigilant, if anyone notices anything strange or off or weirder than usual, call it in, _sound good_?” Lydia said, everyone in the pack murmuring in agreement.

Derek could overhear Stiles telling his dad he was staying at Lydia’s and saying he should stay with Melissa for the night.

Just as quickly as everyone had gotten there, they all cleared out, Peter following Cora to the kitchen to keep her company, Derek grabbed a hold of Stiles just before he left to climb into Lydia’s car.

“Message me as you form a plan, keep me updated on every possibility yeah?” Derek asked Stiles, whose face softened as Derek spoke.

“ _Hey_ , no one is going to kill her. We’re not going to let these assholes take anything from you. You don’t deserve to have any more shit happen to you and your family okay?” Stiles replied, giving his arm a squeeze before walking out the loft.

Derek didn’t know how to explain that he’d been worried about Stiles in that moment not Cora, without feeling extremely guilty.

It didn’t take long for the hunters and witch to arrive in Beacon Hills, Jackson picking up on something on his morning run with Danny in the preserve. Within half an hour the last of the pack members were walking into the loft, sheer luck that it was the holidays and that the Sheriff and Melissa had no shifts rostered on.

Derek was only half focused on what Jackson was saying as Chris and John walked through the door.

“ _No_ , it wasn’t a weird smell, it was the complete absence of smell. Like, I couldn’t smell anything at all, it’s like it was wiped clean somehow-”

“Where are Stiles and Allison?” Derek asked, interrupting Jackson. Noticing that John and Chris had walked in alone, and were looking around the loft in a panic.

“They left ten minutes before we did.” Chris said, panicking, and in a flurry, everyone was rushing out the loft and climbing into their cars, the wolves desperately using their sense of smell to give directions.

All John can think about are Chris’ words from the other day as he sits in the back of Derek’s car, Chris next to him. The thoughts of someone freezing his son to death making his heart race and his palms sweat. His mind goes to dark places, all he could picture was his son looking like the twelve-year-old boy he and his friends had pulled from the lake in the preserve when they were kids, he’d drowned, and his body was all squishy and blue from the water. Or maybe he’d look like the hiker he’d found a few years back who had been reported missing, dead in the woods, body deteriorating from the cold. They had died from hypothermia.

The thought brings back a sudden memory, of Claudia in hospital after giving birth to Stiles. She had what the doctors had called a postpartum episode. She was so convinced that they needed to put Stiles into the freezer, Stiles, who was two weeks early and had only been alive for a matter of hours. When it was just her and John alone with Stiles, she’d ramble on and on about him turning evil if they didn’t.

The doctor gave her some very minor sedatives and strong painkillers to take, told John to keep a watch on her, and said that if she didn’t settle down after a few weeks, they needed her to have therapy. They said mothers having odd, or negative reactions after giving birth were incredibly normal and not to be worried, and just to make sure she didn’t accidently kill their newborn son.

And Claudia did stop after two weeks, _well_ , at least she stopped talking about it, there were a few moments though, where John was half convinced he’d walked in to find Claudia trying to put a very squirmy baby Stiles in the freezer and she’d brush it off.

She kept the house absolutely freezing as well, especially considering Stiles was born in winter, John wasn’t about to say anything though, after all he wasn’t the one who had given birth. John had almost forgotten about it until the day Stiles turned one.

He’d walked into the kitchen that morning to find Stiles happily gurgling away in his highchair, but Claudia was standing, unmoving at the fridge, freezer door wide open, just staring at it, looking like she was going to cry.

“What’s wrong darling?” John had asked, standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her.

“ _Nothing_ , it’s too late anyways, he’s one now.” She’d replied, and suddenly it was like a switch had flipped, from then on the house was back to normal temperatures, she had a lightness to her, it was odd, but John wasn’t going to complain, he figured she’d just fully recovered from her postpartum depression, or whatever it was, and was back to the bubbly self she was before.

He didn’t think about it again until a few weeks after Claudia had died. He had the air conditioner blasting through the house, both to numb himself, and because it reminded him of her, and how her hands always felt cold. He was onto his third glass of whiskey when he heard little footsteps on the stairs.

Stiles had so nervously asked if he could turn up the heat, and then carefully tacked on a quiet ‘because mummy said so’. And Johns heart had just about stopped.

John had managed to get Stiles to explain that with her dying breath she had told Stiles not to freeze until he had warmth to stop him from being cold and cruel. He’d started crying because he never wanted to be cruel or upset Claudia, and now he was cold and shivering and felt like he had let her down.

John had turned the heat up and put Stiles to bed, and never brought it up again. Aside from joking about Stiles always running cold because Claudia liked the aircon on all the time, he never told Stiles about what she tried to do with the freezer, he doesn’t even know where he would begin to tell his son that his mother had tried to kill him, and doesn’t want Stiles to think Claudia didn’t ever want him.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when Derek slams on the breaks. They’re on a dirt track through the preserve, one John knows Stiles often uses as a shortcut to drive to Derek’s loft. The driver’s door is wide open, and Stiles is nowhere to be seen, Allison is still in the passenger seat, eyes shut, unmoving.

It feels like John and Chris move faster than any of the wolves, already at the jeep before any of the others. John can already tell there is not a footprint in sight, and his mind is racing with ways to find Stiles, his heart lurching at seeing Stiles’ phone still in the centre console. They only have wolves to track him now.

“I can’t smell anything.” Jackson near growls, and John can see everyone looking as distressed as he feels.

“She’s still breathing.” John hears Chris say.

“There’s a very faint trace of magic on her, it’s most likely what’s knocked her out.” Peter says, looking over to Deaton to see if he’s right. Deaton simply nods back.

Melissa moves from where she’s rubbing Chris’ back to wrapping John in a hug.

“We’ll find him, don’t worry.” She says, and John can’t help but cast his eyes over to Derek, who seems to have thoughts racing through his mind, guilt and fear present on his face. And John wonders when Stiles became the most important packmate to Derek.

“ _Jesus_ , I feel woozy.” Chris suddenly slurred out, swaying where he stood.

“Yeah I don’t feel too flash either.” Melissa mumbled out.

John heard Lydia gasp, and looked over just as Derek placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“ _No!_ ” Lydia almost screamed, lurching out of Derek’s touch.

“Wha-”

“ _It’s contagious_.” Lydia replied before Derek could even finish asking. As the words came from her mouth, Chris dropped to the ground, unconscious, Melissa collapsing seconds later. Scott dropped next, and slowly everyone began to pass out.

John carefully sat down, not wanting to hurt himself when he inevitably followed suit, Derek doing the same. He and Derek were the only ones left awake as Lydia and Boyd’s eyes drifted shut.

“ _I’m sorry_.” John could hear Derek mutter, just as he was lulled to sleep to the sounds of leaves crunching under someone’s boots.

Derek slowly came to; he felt drugged out and his senses were dulled. There was the tell-tale itchy rash feeling around his wrists that he knew to be wolfsbane. He slowly opened his eyes, and he could see he was the last to wake. All the pack lining the walls of what seemed to be a dingy basement.

Well not all the pack. There was no Stiles, though Derek could swear he could faintly smell the hints of mint and lavender that was Stiles’ scent.

The second his eyes landed on it, he knew he’d lost Stiles forever. Already felt like his control was slipping, shattering away along with his heart. It sat there in the middle of the room, looking like a giant metal box, a little taller than Derek. There was a woman sitting on top, she looked relatively normal, but there was just something off about her, not that Derek could put his finger on it.

Her grin when she noticed Derek blinking wearily at her was more than animal, and it made Derek’s hair stand on edge.

“He’s awake.” She announced, her voice sounding rough, like she’d smoked a pack a day since she was born, though there wasn't a trace of smoke in the air.

Two men walked in from a door behind the box, and even they looked relatively normal. Both pale, arms sunburnt from driving for hours across the country. The slightly shorter man had a small fleck of blood on his shirt, it looked weeks old, but was unmistakably form a ware.

“ _Open it_.” The taller one grunted to the woman, and she jumped down, before flicking her hand, the heavy lid flying off and hitting the wall where the door was with a loud clang. After a few seconds, all the sides fell to the ground, like the lid was the only thing holding it together. Derek couldn't breathe at the sight.

The ice wasn’t completely see-through, it was filled with swirls of white, the frozen water taking on a blue hue, it was so icy that Derek couldn’t see through to the other side. He could see Stiles though. Frozen in position, hands flat above his head, like he was pushing against the lid, Derek thought his eyes were open, it was hard to tell though. His hair almost looked white, and his skin arguably had a blue shade to it, and the deafening silence of his still heart made Derek want to throw up.

“She froze him quickly; he didn’t even have time to start panicking about drowning. You won’t die quickly though, _alpha scum_.” One of the hunters said, spitting at Derek’s feet.

“Why are you doing this?” Chris asked, desperately trying to pick the locks, though it was obvious the witch had enchanted them somehow.

“Someone needs to wipe out the monsters. And after you killed your family there were no hunters who were doing their jobs anymore.” The shorter hunter started explaining. Derek couldn’t take his eyes off the ice though, as it started to become clearer and clearer as the witch melted it.

“We do kill monsters, but few werewolves fall into that category, _hunters however_ , that’s where most the monsters seem to be.” Allison said, clearly angry, feeling like she’d failed to keep Stiles safe. Derek wanted to blame her, but he knew he couldn’t, he fell victim to the same spell just as she had.

The taller hunter laughed, walked up the block of ice leant against it, grinning. Derek looked back to Stiles, and now that the ice had begun to melt, it looked like Stiles was looking directly at the hunter, his eyes also looked like they were turning blue though, so it must be a trick of the light.

“ _Well_ , no one said we couldn’t have a little fun while we worked _eh_?” The hunter said, patting his hand against the ice. There was a split second where it sounded like the ice had cracked, and the world seemed to pause for a just a moment, like everything was collectively holding its breath.

The ice shattered, quickly and loudly, the hunter dropping to the ground as he lost his balance.

Stiles stood there in the middle of what looked like a pile of fresh snow, looking down at the very confused hunter, before looking over to the witch who was starting to look very terrified. Derek didn’t breathe a sigh of relief looking at Stiles though, because Stiles looked, well, _wrong_.

His normally pale skin was so white it looked almost blue, especially in contrast to his very white hair and eyebrows, even some of his freckles had turned white, while some turned blue. His lips had turned purple, and so had his fingertips, like he was freezing, his eyes were the most unnerving though. The thin red veins in his usually bloodshot eyes now a light blue, and his irises were such a pale blue they nearly blended into the whites of his eyes, a stark contrast to his still black pupils.

The witch shot out her hand in a panic, and Derek felt like he was watching the scene unfold in front of him in slow motion. The air almost seeming to ripple in front of her, travelling towards Stiles, and Derek realised that he was seeing her magic. Stiles smirked at her, and it felt unsettling, not the usual snarky look he would give Derek when he knew he was being annoying.

Right before the ripple of air hit Stiles it stopped, and the path of air filled with small glittering snowflakes, it would have been beautiful if it wasn’t unsettling. The witch let out a weird gasping cough, and her skin turned blue, and Derek realised Stiles was freezing her. Derek watched as she stopped moving completely, Stiles clenched his hand into a fist, and as he relaxed it again, she shattered. Derek didn’t have time to be horrified before the hunter on the ground was lunging for Stiles and he was panicking once again.

Stiles turned quickly, and with a quick flick of his wrist did an indescribable amount of damage. Within a second, the pile of ice melted, the water lurching forward, turning into massive icicles as it froze in its path. The huge ice shards impaling the hunter. It was a disgustingly gory sight, almost impossible to tell that all the blood and, _bits_ , were once a person, the only indication left being the severed hand that was dropped to the ground that made Derek feel sick to look at.

Seemingly at the same time, everyone realised they could get out of the chains, the magic weakened enough the wolves could break them, Allison, Danny, Chris, and John picked the locks, Deaton presumably used some light magic, and Scott helped Lydia and Melissa get free.

The other hunter snapped out of whatever daze he was in looking at the bloody icy remains of the other hunter and realised everyone was free. Before anyone could really react though, Peter was sinking his claws into his throat, ripping it out. Derek didn’t even feel bad about it, he would have done the same, and he knows Peter has always had a soft spot for Stiles.

And Stiles, god, Derek wanted to comfort him, but it feels like the wrong thing do to, it was his fault Stiles, was, _whatever_ he had become.

John lunged for Stiles and looked like he was going to shoot Deaton when he reached out to stop him.

“He’s not in his right mind John, touching him will most likely freeze you to death instantly, and he’d never be able to live with himself if he did that to you.” Deaton explained, and John looked pissed off and heartbroken at the same time.

Derek watched as Scott stepped closer to Stiles, and the temperature in the room instantly plummeted, everyone’s breath fogging as they breathed out.

“Come on Stiles, it’s just me man.” Scott said, but everyone can tell it wasn’t working, Stiles looked like he was getting angrier and angrier by the second.

Derek thought about what Deaton said, about how John touching him would kill John instantly. He figured he was a werewolf, surely he could hold out a little longer, even if it killed him, it might just be enough to bring Stiles back. And besides, even if he died, better him than Stiles.

With Stiles’ back to him, too busy staring at Scott, Derek slowly reached his hand out and wrapped his fingers around Stiles’ wrist. He was freezing to the touch, but the cold didn’t seep into Derek like he thought it would. _No_ , Stiles hand and wrist started turning back to their normal colour, almost like Derek’s touch was defrosting him.

The flush of natural skin was reaching Stiles’ neck by the time Stiles realised what Derek had done. Derek held his breath as Stiles looked down at his own hand slowly, with a calculated look. He turned to look at Derek completely and he watched as Stiles’ face returned to normal, his hair turned back to its regular brown, though there was a small speck at his hairline, and in his eyebrow that stayed white. Some of his freckles also looked white still, but it looked cute, not eerie as it had moments earlier.

Stiles began to blink rather rapidly, like he was waking himself from the fog he was in, and after a few moments when he blinked his eyes were back to normal, or nearly normal, the slight flecks of blue in his eyes making them look far more greener than the whiskey brown they were.

It took a few more moments until Stiles looked like he was back to his regular self, he was shivering, and Derek realised his clothes were soaked, they must have stayed frozen when he shattered the ice. Derek recognised the look on Stiles’ face, and it only meant bad things. He was about to ask questions. And Derek’s answer was gonna land him in a world of hurt because he had had the ‘stop sacrificing yourself’ argument with Stiles three times in the last month alone.

“How’d you do that?” Stiles asked, speech slurred and teeth chattering.

“Werewolves run hot.” Derek replied, trying his best to sound smug, glad that Stiles couldn’t see the glares from Scott, Cora and Erica who all called bullshit on his lie.

Stiles slept for about a solid day, and then had breakfast with his dad, and even though they didn’t actively talk about his whole, got kidnapped, technically killed, turned into some evil ice monster thing, there was a definite air of thankfulness that he was still around. He even lets his dad have bacon and maple syrup with his pancakes, though that was more a ‘thank you for not yelling at me for violently murdering two people’ and less ‘sorry for scaring ten years off your life expectancy’.

He got a message from Derek around 11, saying that Deaton dropped around an ungodly number of books that should hopefully have some information on what Stiles was.

“Hey dad, I’m going around to Derek’s.” Stiles called out to his dad, who was upstairs getting ready to go into work.

“Okay, stay safe.” His dad called back, and then Stiles was out the front and climbing into his thankfully undamaged jeep.

Stiles spent the week sprawled across Derek’s couch, dining table, kitchen bench and one heart racing moment on Derek’s bed, reading through the masses of books Deaton gave to Derek. Most were coming up short, with creatures that were similar, but not the same.

It was a Friday night when he finally found the right passage in the right book, spread eagle across the armchair in Derek’s lounge area.

 ** _Marzanna æn hennar Barn – Marzanna and her Children._  
** _Marzanna the Slavic goddess of Winter, Death and Rebirth. The killing of thy goddess brought Winters end, and with-it cometh Spring.  
_ _Her children possess powers unknown to man, and with them brings cursed eternal winters._

The passage of information didn’t help all that much, but the elegant cursive in black ink underneath it, that looked suspiciously like his mother’s handwriting did.

 _The Íss-barn or Ice Child, must be exposed to below zero temperatures for at least twenty-four hours to trigger their abilities before they reach one years of age. This prevents their powers from altering their state of being to one that is cruel and cold. If they do not complete the frjósa or freeze, they must never be exposed to below zero temperatures as it will trigger their powers._  
_If dealing with an Íss-barn that enters frjósa past one year of age, kill on site by any means necessary. Writings speak of æ-varmr, the eternal warmth, that breaks through Marzanna’s grip on her Íss-barn gifting back their humanity. There is no proof of æ-varmr existing, nor writings of proof.  
_ _Íss-barn have natural control and will instantly reach full abilities once power has been triggered._

Stiles was ecstatic, he knew what he was, and he didn’t have to be paranoid about killing anyone. Then the words sank in, and it took all of about three seconds for Stiles to realise that Derek had no fucking clue what he was doing in the basement and was probably sacrificing himself to save Stiles. _Again_.

“ _So_ , I’m an Ice child.” Stiles announced to Derek, who looked up over at Stiles from where he was sitting reading a different book.

“Which is?”

“A child of the Slavic Goddess of Winter apparently. Which I’m pretty sure just means like descendent or something. I was supposed to get frozen before I turned one.”

“Did you?” Derek asked.

“No.”

“Is that why you went all frost demon?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, although, funny story, apparently there’s fuck all ways to fix that and you’re supposed to kill on site.” Stiles said, sarcastic smile on his face. Derek’s guilty expression telling him everything he needed to know.

“I had to try something, either we were gonna lose you or you were gonna kill half of us and then you’d be so ridden with guilt we’d probably lose you anyways.” Derek explained, sounding broken, and it hit Stiles that he had essentially had a nap and then got kind of cold and then had another nap, while everyone else really dealt with the trauma. _Still_ , Stiles had to make a point.

“You self-sacrificing piece of shit.” Stiles said, getting up and throwing the book on the floor, before storming over to Derek.

And it was easy as breathing to fall into Derek’s lap and slot their lips together. There was a moment where Stiles’ brain caught up to him and he was about to throw himself off Derek and run, but then Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles in a bone crushing embrace, pulling him impossibly closer, his tongue running along Stiles’ lips.

Stiles opened his mouth and couldn’t help but grind down into Derek, unsure which one of them moaned and which one of them groaned, though it was definitely him that let out the embarrassing whine when Derek reached up and tugged on his hair.

“Your hair has turned white.” Derek commented, voice deeper than usual, before attacking Stiles’ neck, sucking and biting and licking until Stiles was a writhing whining mess.

“I wonder if all your hair turns white?” Derek asked out loud, and before Stiles could think of a response there was a solid hand palming against his straining dick.

“Fuck, Derek.” Stiles moaned out before pressing his open mouth back against Derek’s.

“You’re making my apartment turn cold.” Derek said as he stood, picking Stiles up with him.

“Yeah well, you’ll deal.” Stiles replied, voice shaking as Derek dropped him on the bed.

“Will I now?” Derek asked, wolfish grin on his face, crawling up the bed until he could press his body weight against Stiles.

“ _Yeah_ , I have it on good authority that werewolves run hot.”

**Author's Note:**

> [this](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morana_\(goddess\)) is where I googled goddesses, and [this](https://www.vikingsofbjornstad.com/Old_Norse_Dictionary_E2N.shtm#f) is where I translated stuff. (both badly, I'm sorry if I offended anyone!!)
> 
> hope you liked it!


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